


Picking Up the Pieces

by Liberte_Egalite_Broadway



Series: dream, with a fever [2]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I may give you pain but I also give you long-hair Nureyev so, Mutual Pining, Other, Team as Family, and very light fluff near the end, more pining but this time it's, mostly though it's pining and hurt comfort, there's one scene that's very very heavy though, this fic is not as painful as the last one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-25 16:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19749814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liberte_Egalite_Broadway/pseuds/Liberte_Egalite_Broadway
Summary: It's been a year since Juno last saw Nureyev. In the time since then, the man has changed in ways that Juno would never have expected, and now he's hiding behind the mask of a familiar alias as they try to work for the same team in spite of their personal conflicts. Addicted to sleeping pills, running from the past, and angry at the world, Nureyev won't so much as talk to Juno about what happened while they were apart.If anything, Juno thinks he understands him better now.





	Picking Up the Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the sequel to "Breaking", and is the second installment of this recovery arc I'm writing. You don't need to read "Breaking" to understand this one, but if you did you'd notice some things you might not otherwise. "Breaking" was from Nureyev's POV, but this one is Juno's, so don't get confused that the tone is different!
> 
> the one thing that remains consistent in my fics is that i always say eat the rich
> 
> Once again I owe my life to my collaborator, rudzik-art for the beautiful drawings they made. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> Abuse of sleeping pills  
> Brief moments of intense action, including gunshots  
> References to violence  
> References to sex  
> Strong language including the f word  
> A character overdoses on medication  
> A character mistakenly thinks that another character has attempted suicide  
> Two characters have a tense verbal argument that escalates into shouting  
> References to medical procedures

I've been called a lot of things over my thirty-nine years in this godforsaken galaxy. "Kid" has never really been one of them. 

"Hey, kid!" snaps Vespa, throwing open my door at the glorious hour of six AM. "Didn't you get my comms call?"

"Jeez, give a lady a warning first!" I snap back, pulling my blankets up to my chin. Vespa frowns. 

"Are you naked?" 

"Uh, not sure if you noticed, but this ship is goddamn hot at night -"

"That's stupid. Get dressed, you've got five minutes." And she's gone. 

I fumble out of bed, throwing on the boxers and pants I left on my floor last night, and the first shirt my hand grabs from the closet, which unfortunately turns out to be the hideous green and pink striped one Rita bought for me a few years back. But there's no time to change if I don't want Buddy on my case. I slide on some shoes, because while the ship might be goddamn hot at night the metal floors are goddamn _cold_ in the morning, and I stumble out the door. 

"Juno. You are awake." 

"Yeah, morning to you too, big guy." 

Jet sets a plate on top of my hand. "Eat your breakfast while you walk to the bathroom," he directs. "Then brush your teeth once you arrive at the bathroom, and then come to the meeting. It is important that you learn how to save time." 

"Sure. Thanks for the heads-up."

I've gotta admit, these people are... weird. Getting to know them a few months ago in the Cerberus Province was one thing, but now, two days into my however-long stint living with them, I'm starting to pick up on patterns. Habits. They're all fast-moving, squeezing productivity out of time like blood out of... well, one of the many things blood comes out of if you squeeze it.

Breakfast is a warm roll with a slice of cheese, rehydrated lettuce, and cloned bacon, brushed with mustard. It's pretty good, as cheap foods go. I knock on the door of the smaller bathroom before realizing there's a hairdryer running on the other side. "Mornin', Mistah Steel!" chirps Rita. "That is Mistah Steel, ain't it?"

"Damn it, Rita -"

"Okay Mistah Steel, well you're just gonna have to go use the other bathroom, cause I ain't done with my hair yet -"

I storm down the hallway before she can finish. I’m really late. Except for Rita, everyone else is probably in the meeting room already, deciding exactly how they're gonna punish me when I show up. I duck into the kitchen to drop my now-empty plate on the counter without breaking stride, and then once I get to the other bathroom, I throw the doors open, frazzled; but then I look up, and -

There he is. 

Standing there in front of the mirror, with a highlighter brush in his hand. His head angles towards me when he hears the door open, those clear, dark eyes fixing on me like satellites. He's finished highlighting one side of his face, but not the other, and his skin sparkles asymmetrically in the shitty fluorescent lighting. He's wearing black pants and a silk robe over a loose pink top obviously designed to kill me on the spot. And his long hair - which looks fantastic on him, by the way, I've never wanted to anything as much as I want to run my fingers through it - is pulled back into a bun.

He's stunning, and it makes my heart ache. 

"I'm sorry," I stammer. "I didn't know you were in here."

"I'm just finishing." He turns back to the mirror and highlights the other side of his face. Now symmetrical, he gathers up his makeup and sweeps through me to the door. "All yours."

The door closes behind him before I even have time to consider saying something else. 

***

Living with Nureyev is a little surreal. 

Except, I have to remind myself all the time, he's not Peter Nureyev anymore. He's Rex Glass now. In some ways it's easier than if he'd just made an entirely new alias, since I haven't slipped up on the name yet. 

The thing is though... he almost seems _too_ Rex Glass. Like he's taken the persona and gone overboard. Rex Glass was cheerful, but this man is so perky it's almost exhausting watching him. 

There's something different about him, too. Something beyond the alias. I just can't quite put my finger on _what._

I steal glances at him, when he's distracted by watching Buddy lecture us about our upcoming mission, or while he's reading something on his comms, or while he traces his arm absently in some kind of nervous tick. He's thinner now- not as thin as he was after being tortured, but thinner than the first time I saw him. He has an almost drawn look, and something hungry flickers behind his eyes occasionally.

I want to pull him aside and talk to him about what happened between us, but I haven't found a way. 

***

I get my opportunity when we're planning for our upcoming mission and I'm supposed to chart a course with him.

"Oh, yeah, um." I scratch my neck, glance up at Buddy and Vespa, standing over the couch. "I... it's kind of possible I don't know how to use a starcharter?"

"Then this is when you learn," Vespa replies, deadpan. She shoves the starcharter into my chest. 

"Go easy on him, darling," murmurs Buddy by Vespa's ear, which makes her relax. It's amazing how Buddy acts with her, like she's her impulse control and her comfort and her better half. I'm a little jealous of them. "He's learning. Besides, Rex can show him. You do know how to use this, yes?"

He clutches his chest in mock outrage. " _How_ can you question me like that?”

"That's a yes?"

"That's an _of course_ , give it here." He plucks the charter from my hands, and the side of his palm skims over mine. I try not to read too much into that. "Don't worry, I'm sure Juno and I make an excellent team. Don't you agree, Detective Steel?"

"Uh. Uh, yeah. Yeah! Yeah, we'll be fine."

"You see?" He beams at Buddy. "Don't be a spoil-sport. I'm sure you have much more important things to do." 

"Exactly." Vespa gives Buddy a fond but pointed look and steers her out of the room. The door slides shut behind them. I expect him to drop the act now that we're alone, but then he's scooting up alongside me, and I realize I was probably dumb to expect that. 

"Here," he says as his fingertips trace through a network of virtual stars. "This is our current location, do you see?"

I nod. 

"So if you want to input the coordinates..." and then there's some more tapping, more scrolling. His movements are slow and lingering, and precise, like he's actually travelling through the stars that the screen represents. It... and this is embarrassing... it honestly reminds me of the way he touched me when we had sex. How he kept lingering, letting those warm hands explore my body, chart courses along my scars. He took his time with me. Like he wanted to savor every minute.

"Now you try it," he says, interrupting my thoughts. I'm not sure how to admit that I haven't actually been paying attention, so I do my best and let him take it back when it's obvious I can't do it. "Don't tell me you weren't listening," he chides, smirking. "Alright, I can go back - if you press this icon here..."

"It's good to see you again," I murmur. 

He stops, one hand still hovering over the screen, and lifts his head just a smidge. "Don't do that." 

"Do what?"

"I think it would be better for us both if we decided not to discuss... past events." The Rex Glass is gone from his voice, but he's not quite himself. "I'm glad you're well, Juno. I really am. I was concerned for your safety in these past few months. But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not mention what came before that." 

"Okay." I scoot closer to him on the couch. "That's fine, we don't have to. But can I ask why?" 

He draws in a deep breath and lets it rattle out through those blood-red lips. He's still not looking at me. "Because, Juno," he murmurs, "I don't want to jepoardize this mission by altering the crew dynamic. Because I think that it would just be painful to drudge up old memories, rather than focus on the task at hand. Does that make sense?"

And, sure, I guess it could make sense. 

But I know this man. 

I know how his name sounds and how his past looks. I know that he's more intelligent and calculating than probably anyone I've ever met. I know his smile. I know what the sweat on his neck tastes like, what his breath sounds like when it catches. I know that he plans things out but that he also lives in the moment, and I know that he trusted me once, and I know that he's lying to me now. 

"Tell the truth," I whisper.

When he looks at me, there are tears in his eyes. 

"You broke my heart," he says. "You broke my _fucking_ heart."

And yeah, I know that one too. 

I look right into his eyes, trying to understand that hungry thing behind them. There's a faint sheen of sweat along the edge of his hair, which is weird because it's not that hot in here. I swallow hard and then, even though my voice shakes, I say, "I'm sorry." 

"Ha," he says mirthlessly. He takes the charter and retreats to the opposite end of the couch. "Me too." 

I watch him sitting there, and here up close I notice that he's fidgety, that he can't seem to sit still.

Then it hits me. 

He's in withdrawal from something - and as soon as I've realized that, I realize what it is that's different about him, what I noticed. 

He's not wearing the cologne anymore. 

***

"This is the plan," says Vespa as we all shovel down bowls of curry. "Buddy and I stayed up late last night planning this, so I expect it to go well. Understood?" 

Jet wears oven mitts that have to be custom made to fit those enormous hands of his. He ladles more curry into my bowl. "What the hell!" I exclaim. 

"It is important that you eat, Juno. You cannot attempt this mission on an empty stomach." 

"I'm eating as fast as I can!" 

"Can I talk? Thank you." Vespa sighs deeply. Jet sweeps around her silently and drops more curry into her bowl. She taps the holographic map of the facility we're breaking into. "So, here's the plan. We go in the facility in teams of two. Rita and Jet will be entering first, through this staff door on the third level. From there, they'll go down this hallway to the file we need. If either of you forgets your ID badge, I'll kill you."

"We won't forget!" Rita exclaims around a mouthful of the curry. Jet glares at me from over Vespa's shoulder, so I shovel more of this stuff into my mouth, because I really don't want to get on his bad side today.

"Juno and Rex will be entering from this loading zone in the basement," Vespa continues. "And can you remind me why you're doing that, Steel?"

"Uh," I stammer. It's... kind of possible that I forgot the reason for whatever it is I should know the reason of. Buddy comes to my rescue. 

"Of course he does," she purrs smoothly. "You're very capable of taking down a rival, aren't you, Juno? Just don't let them get to the data before us."

"Oh yeah." I beam at Vespa. "Sounds simple."

"Great. In that case, let's hit the road." 

I put my curry in the fridge and follow her to the shuttle. It's an eeriely quiet ride. After what feels like no time at all, Vespa directs the pod to landing. "You two, out. Best of luck." 

Nureyev doesn't speak to me as they drop us off. It's a quick process. Land the pod, lower the ramp, creep silently to the door, and after he works a few lockpicks around in his slender fingers, the lock clicks and the door slides open. I wish I knew how he did that. Nureyev steps back. "Ladies first." 

I go into the basement. It smells stale in here, like somebody wrapped a bunch of dreams in mothballs and then forget them in the back of their closet. The basement looks like a weird cross between a warehouse and a drained swimming pool. One wall is entirely taken up by enormous metal doors, where transport vehicles hitch up to unload; after that, the concrete floor slopes down and then runs flat and empty for a hundred feet or so before it's lost under a big pile of shipping containers. At the very back of the room, behind and above the containers, is a ladder leading up to metal balcony, with a door to the rest of the building. A single light flickers above. "That's nice," I observe. "They left a night light on for us." 

He doesn't respond, just pulls out one of his knives and stalks past me. "Take your blaster out," he murmurs. 

Nureyev walks briskly to the shipping containers. He's wearing massive high heels, but somehow they don't make a sound. He's just amazing like that. We climb up onto one of the shipping containers. The one in front of it is at a slight angle. He crouches down, bracing one hand against the other crate to balance. And then he stops moving for a while, just kind of perches there stock-still, those clear dark eyes flickering along the floor underneath. 

"Hey, I gotta question," I mumble as I kneel down next to him. 

"Mm." 

"What if Buddy's wrong and our mark isn't planning to come through here?"

"Then we rejoin the rest of the group once Rita has acquired the data we need." 

"Oh." I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn't. He doesn't move at all, except for the slightest rise and fall in his chest as he breathes. "Sooo, what are we gonna do while we wait?"

"We're going to concentrate." 

"Really? You got a pack of cards, book for me to read, something like that?"

He sighs, does this pretty eye roll that sends a chill through me. "Detective, _please_."

"Okay. Okay." I slump against the wall of the container and slide down until I'm sitting propped against it. "Sure. Let's concentrate." 

So we sit there, me picking at the torn threads on my jacket, him perched in that low crouch, and we watch the motionless space below us. I've got no doubt that he could spring out of that crouch at a moment's notice. Our mark wouldn't even see him coming. 

Time passes; I'm not sure how long. Feels like forever. There's this persistent tapping that's really bothering me. I try to ignore it. The thread on my jacket finally comes loose and I let myself glance at my watch. God, it hasn't even been a full fifteen minutes. If that mark never shows up for a fight, I might just die of boredom in the meantime. 

I hear Nureyev shift nearby and look up. To my surprise, he's moved out of that steady position and is now kneeling on the top of the container. I realize what that tapping is. It's him, drumming on the hilt of his knife with his sharp nails. That look in his eyes is back. 

"Nureyev?" I ask, tentative. "You okay?" 

"Don't say that name." 

"Sorry. Rex, then."

"I'm fine." He's sweating now, with this glazed look that fades over his eyes. He keeps reaching up to adjust his glasses, to push back his hair, to fiddle with his ear cuff. 

"Rex-"

"i'm _fine._ "

"Really? Cause you don't look fine to me." 

He turns to look at me, sharply. "Oh? And why, Juno, does your opinion matter in this instance?"

"I'm worried about you."

He snorts at that. "You're worried about me." He shakes his head. "I don't need you to worry about me. We should change our position." He stands up, his coat rustling, and jumps down to the next shipping container. For a minute I lose him, until I hear the echo of his heels moving down to the container a level below that one. I shouldn't be able to hear those shoes. He always hides his movements. 

I follow him to the new position and run past him, blocking his path before he can go down another level. 

"Move." 

"Not until you talk to me."

"Juno, we're terribly exposed -"

"Our mark's not here, Nureyev."

"I told you not to say that name."

"Fine. Fine, Rex, Duke, Peter, whoever the hell you wanna be today, I'm not moving until you _talk_ _to me._ Look at you." I wave my hands, indicating...just everything. "There's something seriously wrong with you. I think we need to radio Buddy and call in this mission."

"What? No! I'm completely capable of this!"

"Oh, yeah, which is why you're sweating like crazy and your eyes keep crossing?"

"Juno-"

"You're in withdrawal, Nureyev," I snap over him. "I may not have seen you in a year, but I know what addiction looks like, okay? I don't know what happened to you, or why you decided to do whatever it was you did to yourself, but I know you're struggling, and I'm not letting you put yourself in this kind of danger." 

His face passes through about five different emotions quickly, and that, more than anything, tells me that I'm right. Something is wrong. Peter Nureyev would never be so open with someone he doesn't trust, and after the way I treated him I'm definitely not on the trust list. He purses his lips and glares me down. 

"You're assuming too much," he hisses. "I think you can do me the courtesy of trusting that I know my own limits. I've been doing this for far longer than you have, and if I say I'm capable of something, then -"

"I know you, Nureyev!" I step closer to him and glare right back into his impossibly gorgeous face. "I know you want to finish this job, and prove to everyone and yourself that you're still the same thief you always have been, but -"

"Do you know me?" He replies, voice raised. The ruse of us being hidden is totally gone by now. "Do you really? After two weeks with me, you can honestly say that you _know_ me?"

"First of all, it was longer than that -"

"You don't know _anything_ about me!" he interrupts. "And I - I _gave you the chance to!_ I let you see into my mind, I was ready to take you to run away with me, and if you had I would have given you every piece of knowledge you wanted. But you threw that away, and yet you still think that you _know_ me?!" Tears are pouring down his face, dark black from all the mascara around his eyes. I realize suddenly that my eyepatch is damp, and that tears have started rolling down my other cheek. "You cannot even _imagine_ the shit that I put myself through this past year. The things that I did just so that I could feel something. It almost killed me, Juno! I'm not blaming you, I'm not saying that's your fault, but you need to understand -" He breaks off. I’ve never seen him like this: rambling, almost incoherent.

And he's swaying slightly. 

"Nureyev," I say, urgently. "Calm down." 

"I _destroyed_ myself!" he gasps. "I went- I went to these places so dark I didn't think I could come back, and Juno, Juno, i'm just trying to do my best here, can you understand that? Have you ever felt like that? That now you have to prove that you can just do your _best_ and be worth the trust people place in you after _everything_ that's happened - have you, have you -" He screams in frustration, grabs fistfuls of his long hair in his hands. His sobs echo in the metal room. I'm shaking, tears pouring down my face. 

"Nureyev -"

"I have to finish this mission." He swipes at his face, leaving angry black lines of makeup across. "I'm going to finish this mission, do you hear me? I'm going to, because I need to know that I can, however well you may think you know me - and I _assure you -_ "

Then he collapses. 

A couple of things happen quickly in the next few seconds. As Nureyev topples to the floor in a swoon, I hear gunfire, and see a blur of shadow across the floor beneath us. It's a figure running. Our mark. 

_SHIT, SHIT, SHIT._

I whip out my blaster, pegging bolts down at the mark. Shooting is so much harder with only one eye, something I still haven't gotten used to, so I'm mostly missing, but I keep going anyway. Nureyev is gasping on the floor next to me. I swear again as I feel a laser blast ping through the air next to my ear, and then I've lost sight of the mark. Moments later their footsteps sound nearby. They've started climbing the shipping containers. 

I hook my arms around Nureyev and drag him out of sight. He's trying to say something, his eyes wide, but I shush him and drag him deeper into the shadows. The mark is getting close now. Will they avoid us, intent on getting to the door? Will they take the time to kill us?

_Vespa, this would be a really great time to whip out that back-up plan._

Nureyev's head tips against my arm, and I worry that he's been shot, but then I check him and can't find anything to confirm that. Probably it was something related to the withdrawal. I prop him up against the shipping container and crouch next to him. My breath comes in heavy, deep gasps that the mark can probably hear. Their footsteps are coming closer. I dropped my blaster while I was dragging Nureyev, but...

"Sorry," I whisper, and I reach my hand down to Nureyev's leg and grab the knife from his thigh holster. Clutching the knife, I creep as quietly as I can to the edge of the shadow, thinking that even if I don't have the advantage in weapons, at least I have the element of surprise. _Where are you, you sonuvabitch..._

There's the sound of a blaster firing from above, and the mark cries out. _Thud_. I look up as I hear feet on the metal balcony. 

"Hey, guys," says Vespa, blowing the smoke from her gun. "What happened to my plan?"

***

We all make it back to the pod in one piece. Vespa, triumphant, slumps casually in her seat with her arms spread over the back. "It was easy, really," she drawls. Rita hangs on every word. She and Jet got all the data we need without a sound, other than whatever sounds data makes when you hack into it, I guess. I probably should be celebrating too, but I'm... honestly? I'm just really tired. 

When we get back to the ship, Rita's talking energetically about having a second dinner, "And maybe then a third? Ooh, and we could do a TOAST! Like the bands of outlaws in a stream special!" and Vespa's still gloating. Nureyev slips off quietly to his room without a word to any of us. I can tell that Buddy notices. She glances after him and gives me this sad smile, like she knows exactly how I feel. I wish I knew exactly how I feel. 

"Mistah Steel" Rita exclaims. "C'mon, we got time for at LEAST two bowls of dusty salmon crunchies before bed, oh OH! And you can tell us all about how you guarded the warehouse, before Ms. Vespa totally saved the day and everything!"

"Yeah, okay," I say. She grabs my arm, tugging me towards the kitchen. 

It turns out that Rita thinks we have time for a bowl of dusty salmon crunchies, a bowl of extra-dusty salmon crunchies, and some disgusting combination of cheese puffs and chocolate pudding that should be more illegal than the stuff we all just pulled off. Vespa breaks out these sour sodas and within two seconds Rita's sprayed the stuff out of her nose, laughing at something Jet said. It's cute, and it makes me happy to see her having fun. But I can't pay attention. My mind keeps tugging me down the hall. So when Rita suggests we try mixing salmon crunchies _and_ cheese puffs in the pudding, I excuse myself and head out the door. 

I decide to go check on Nureyev, see if he at least wants some more food or something. And if he doesn't, maybe we can talk about what happened earlier today. Maybe I can apologize for whatever it is that I probably did wrong. I go down the hall to his room and knock on the door. After a long pause, his voice calls back, "Who is it?"

"It's Juno, can I come in?"

Another long pause follows. "...I suppose."

This is my first time in Nureyev's room, and it's really not what i was expecting. It's a mess. High heels kicked off casually in every corner, some standing upright with the match slumped against them, while some lie alone with the match on the complete opposite side of the room; clothes thrown over the chair, over the floor, at the foot of the bed. He's lying in that bed, wrapped up in a big fluffy comforter, his dark hair thrown across one of the pillows like a stain of ink.

"Hey," I say, tentative. "How are you feeling?"

"Not exceptional." He sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes. "To be honest, I feel somewhat embarrassed. Our mission turned out to be a colossal failure."

"No it didn't." i grab the chair from in front of his vanity and pull it up alongside the bed. "Rita got all the files we wanted, and Vespa took down our guy. I've gotta call that a success."

"Mmm," he muses. "Well, _I_ failed."

"You got sick because of your withdrawal. It happens."

He lifts his face, and I'm struck that look in his eyes. His face is free of makeup, those long black locks tumbling down past his ears to brush at his collarbone. "It shouldn't have happened."

"Maybe not. Did, though. Listen." I clear my throat. "I wanted to say, I -I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For fighting with you today." When he lifts an eyebrow, I sigh. "No, okay, that's not really it. I...I'm sorry that I left you asleep in that hotel room. I'm sorry that I promised you a future I knew I wasn't gonna be able to give to you. It was shitty, and cowardly, and I did it anyway. I'm so, so sorry. I could say it for the rest of my life and it still wouldn't show you just how goddamn sorry I am, Nureyev, that you gave me the most beautiful gift anyone's ever given me and I tossed it out like that. I'm sorry that I broke your heart, and I'm sorry that you decided to go and get addicted to some drug afterwards, and I'm sorry that I haven't known how to talk to you since I've seen you again. I'm sorry you ever had to meet me. So."

I draw in my breath; I hadn't even realized I was holding it in; and I slump back in my chair. He's watching me. 

"Can I tell you something, Juno?" he asks. 

"Yeah." I lift my face. "Yeah, go for it." 

"It was Silver Mage." 

"Huh?" 

"The drug I got addicted to." He's lying on his side, twisting the blanket idly in his hand. I recognize the name. I tried it just once, way back in my teenage years with Mick. That stuff is cruel. "I don't really remember how I started it," Nureyev murmurs. "The syringe just appeared in my hand one night, I suppose. But then I found a source, and I kept getting more and more of them. I couldn't stop." When he lifts his eyes they're full of tears. "I'm sorry too," he says. "Please... will you do something for me?"

"Yeah, of course." 

"Will you hand me that pill bottle on my vanity?"

 _Pill bottle?_ I get up and go to the vanity. The surface is cluttered: expensive jewelry, uncapped tubes of lipsticks, knives, watches, protein bars in packets. I find the pill bottle between a set of makeup brushes and a ruby the size of my fist. The bottle is small, with an ornate stopper and a ribbon tied around the neck. "This?"

He nods. "Bring it here." 

I examine the bottle. "I dunno, Nureyev... I don't think pills are really a good idea with you in this state."

"They're just sleeping pills. I need two of them."

"Where did you get these?"

"From a man." He stretches out his arm. "He gave a bottle to me as a gift. Then I stole four more."

"Yeah, sounds like you. This guy, he was a friend of yours?"

"No, he was my lover, and I took the bottles after threatening him with a knife, now may I please have my pills?"

It's not fair for me to be jealous over the word lover. Nureyev gave me the best night of my life and I thanked him by walking out while he was asleep; I'm really not in a position to complain that he went on to someone else. I shouldn't be jealous... I'm jealous. 

But even though I left him before, I'll be damned if I don't treat him well now. I go fill a glass of water in the bathroom sink, then come back, count out two pills for him, and place them in his hand rather than letting him fish them from the bottle. 

"What do you need these for, anyway?" I ask as he takes them. 

"Help me sleep." He hands the empty glass back to me and nuzzles down into his bed. "I have trouble sleeping. I have for a while..." He yawns and turns his head towards me. In the dim lighting, the splash of his dark hair seems to glisten on the pillow. When he says my name his voice sounds smaller than I've ever heard it before. 

"Juno?"

And mine sounds hollow: "Yes?"

"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Of course I will." 

Slowly, I lift my hand and reach out towards him, and when he nods I do what I've been wanting to for a while, and lower my hand down, and trail my fingers through his long hair. It's even softer than I thought it would be. 

"Oh," he breathes. 

"Is that nice?"

"Mmm. Yes..." He blinks, yawns again, and pushes his forehead sleepily into the heel of my hand. "Don't stop."

So I don't stop. I caress the locks of his hair between my fingers. I turn my hand over and trail my knuckles along the outline of his forehead. I smooth back the few pieces that have fallen in front of his eyes. His breath grazes over my wrist, as warm and tender as some kind of blessing. Eventually I feel that breath settle. He's asleep. 

I don't know if I should stop now that he's out, but I don't want to wake him by getting up, so I keep going, confining my touches to his hair and the top of his head. The thought crosses my mind that this is a good place to start. It's comfortable, and safe, and somehow so intimate even though it's so simple. His parted lips move slightly as he breathes. In, and out. In, and out. The rhythm of his breathing plays across the sides of my fingers as I keep stroking his hair, and underneath the blanket I can see the faint rise and fall of his chest. 

I've seen a lot of things in thirty-nine years alive. I've never seen anything quite as beautiful as this man's face while he sleeps. 

So I sit there, stroking his hair, wreathed in a dim halo of the ship's cheap light. Light, and the rhythm of Peter Nureyev against my skin. 

***

"I think something may be wrong with Rex," Buddy observes to me when we're alone in the navigation room one night. 

"Oh yeah?"

"He's been... how do I put it? Not exactly different. You see, he seemed unhealthy to me, even before we picked you and Rita up. I suppose he seems unhealthy now. Do you know anything about this?"

I don't say anything. 

"Juno?"

"It's not my secret to tell." 

She huffs. "Fine. But I want him to feel that he _can_ confide his secret in me. I want our team to cooperate and be healthy. I..." She shakes her head. "I just want to know I'm doing right by all of you," she sighs.

"You are." When that doesn't seem to reassure her, I give her a hug, which isn't really something I normally do. But she looks like she needs it. "You're a great team captain," I say. "I think Rex knows that too." 

"Oh, darling, I hope so." She squeezes me back before she releases me, and goes back to the navigation system. "I truly hope so."

***

A few days later, Buddy tells us that we need to refuel the ship. To me that would mean we pull into a port somewhere and then pull out after a half hour or so, but because it's her she decides we're going to break in somewhere and steal the money we need, then fly to some other planet and use that money to refuel. Of course she doesn't have any money on her. None of them do. What would be the point, when they could just steal more whenever they wanted?

I don't have a lot of qualms about this particular mission, though. It honestly looks kind of easy, compared to some of the other stuff they have planned. This time, we just have to go in and grab some cash from a safe while whoever today's billionaire mark is goes out for the night. Probably she won't even notice anything is missing. 

Nureyev isn't supposed to be going in on this mission. Jet's doing the actual cash-grab, putting those giant hands back to thieving work, and I'm just there for backup in case this all goes pear shaped. But even though we don't need him for anything, Vespa's annoyed that he isn't here. 

"We all need to check in before and after a mission," she insists. "Doesn't matter who's going. We all need to be accounted for at all times." 

"I believe he said he was going to bed," says Jet. "It is fine. Juno and I can -"

"To bed? This is ridiculous! No one sleeps while we have crew members on a mission! What if something goes screwy and I need to send him in? Somebody go wake him up." 

"I'll do it," I say, standing up from the table. Buddy shoots me a look. I shoot one right back at her. 

When I get to his room, the door is closed, so I knock. No answer. I knock again, and still no answer. 

"Hey, you awake?" I knock again, a little harder. "Jet and I are heading out for our cash grab thing, and Vespa's looking for you. She's getting pretty pissed." Still no response. "You might want to go talk to her." Nothing. 

I'm starting to get a little worried, so I knock again, harder, and when he still doesn't answer, I try the handle. Locked. 

"Rex?" I bang on the door. "Rex, damn it, wake up, I'm serious here. I'm not sure why you aren't answering me, but this isn't a joke." There's still no answer. Something isn't right here. I jiggle the handle with one hand and bang on the door with the other. "Come on, this isn't funny, you're freaking me out - Nureyev, damn it, are you alive? Nureyev - I'm coming in there!" I step back and kick the door as hard as I can near the handle, and it gives, and I run into the room. I don't process what I'm seeing at first, but when I do, it hits me like a bucket of cold water dumped over me.

"Oh my god." I sprint to his side and drop to my knees. "Oh my god - VESPA! VESPA! GET IN HERE!" 

He's lying sprawled across the floor, with his eyes closed and one long, slender arm extended in front of him. An empty bottle of those sleeping pills dangles from his fingertips. Some pills have spilled out from the mouth across the floor... 

He's overdosed. 

"Oh my god, no, no no no, Nureyev -" I flip him over and grab his wrists in my hands. Please, please let him have a pulse. Okay, he has one. But it's weak, and when I clutch his face in my hands his eyes are closed and his breathing is ragged. I cradle him across my lap, stroking his face, shaking him a little, just trying to get him to open his eyes. "Nureyev, wake up, say something for me, please don't die on me here, you can't die..." 

And I'm wondering, maybe, is that what he wanted?

"No, no no, please, come on!" A drop of water lands on his face under mine. Then a couple more. My throat feels raw. "Please, please, I need you... dammit, why would you do this? How could you do this? Why, Nureyev, just _why-"._ I scream hoarsely for Vespa again, and then I can hear footsteps running down the corridor, like thunder racing against time, while I'm wondering wildly if she's going to be able to save him. I bury my face in his chest. 

"Come on, Peter," I whimper. "I can't lose you again. Not again. Please, not when I love you - I love you, I-" 

The footsteps stop outside the door, and I hear them all reacting to what they see, Vespa's there next to me, on her knees, feeling for his pulse. "What happened?!"

"I, I-"

"Steel! WHAT HAPPENED!" 

"I-I don't know!" I yell back. "He wasn't answering, so I, I kicked in the door, and I found him like this, and he just, he, I -"

"What _is_ this stuff?!" Buddy's on the floor with us, scooping up the pills. 

"They're sleeping meds, he uses them, he showed them to me -" His head lolls to a different angle in my arm. I clutch at him like that's going to be enough to save him. God, why does he have to look _peaceful_ lying there like that? "He's gonna die - oh my god he just stopped breathing!" and then I'm sobbing. Vespa and Buddy crouch on either side of me.

"Okay. Okay, Steel, breathe." Vespa rubs my shoulder with one hand, and with the other she waves Jet over. "We've gotta get him to the medbay, alright? And you can't carry him." 

"His breathing is weak," muses Buddy. "Should I start CPR now, or -?"

Vespa says something to her, and then she might be saying something to me. I don't know. I'm overwhelmed. The man I love is lying unconscious in my arms with a pulse like a dying butterfly and a body full of pills that he might have been taking to kill himself. And it's all my fault. 

They're all shouting things at each other, and then Jet's arms are around Nureyev, taking him away from me. I reach after him, because I can't let him be torn from me like this, not when he needs me - "Relax, Juno," says Jet gently. "You cannot carry him all the way to the medbay. I can. Please, trust me."

"Buddy, I'm gonna need three bowls of water and a jar of the activated charcoal I made up last week," Vespa's saying, with Buddy nodding frantically to all the directions she gives her, and Jet takes Nureyev out of my arms before I can try to pull him back. "Rita - take care of Juno." Then Jet and Vespa are running and carrying him away, around the corner to the medbay, and Buddy's running off in the opposite direction to get the stuff Vespa told her to, and I'm kneeling on the floor of Nureyev's bedroom sobbing harder than I ever have in my entire life. 

Nureyev just _overdosed on sleeping pills._

"I should go after them," I realize. Before I can even stand up Rita's next to me to hold me back. 

"You can't go there, Mistah Steel," she says gently. "You gotta stay with me until Mistah Glass comes out of surgery, okay?" Surgery. They're going to have to do surgery. "Shhh, shhh," she murmurs as I start weeping even harder, and she wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight. I fold against her. She rubs my back while I cry into her shoulder, mumbling gentle stuff, telling me it'll be okay when I don't know how it ever can be, saying he'll be fine, saying I can see him soon. She helps me get up from the floor and walks me to my room, and she sits me down on the bed. "Here, Mistah Steel, you wanna change into something more comfy?"

"N-no," I stammer. 

"Okay, boss. That's fine. Lemme get you a nice blanket, okay?" She grabs the blanket and wraps it around both of us, then hugs me close again. 

"-NO, I NEED TWO LITERS OF THAT, RIGHT NOW-" 

I flinch as Vespa's shout echoes from the medical bay. Rita gets up wordlessly and closes the door. When she crawls under the blanket again she seems thoughtful about something, but she doesn't tell me what it is. "Alright, Mistah Steel," she says instead. "Now you gotta get your breathing under control, okay? C'mon. In, ready?" She breathes in. I try to copy it, but my breathing sounds all shaky and watery like I'm hearing it through the sea. "That's good, boss. Now breathe out. Great. Now in one more time, ready? Aaaand out again. Great." 

Eventually, I get my breathing under control. I'm still shaky, and I feel like if I hear another sound from the med bay I'll just snap all over again. Rita sits next to me, her arm around my shoulders. 

"Mistah Steel, can I ask you somethin'?"

I nod. 

"This is probably a real bad time, but I feel like I gotta know. Are you... are you in love with Agent Glass?"

I nod again, just once. "Do you think he's going to die?" 

"I dunno, Mistah Steel. Vespa's real smart, though, if there's anybody knows what she's doing, it's her. She can help him if anyone can. Meanwhile, why don't you lie down a bit, okay? You wanna watch a stream?"

I sniffle. "Nah. I just... Honestly I feel tired?"

"Yeah, emotion-tired, that's a thing, Mistah Steel, and you should rest if you want. We've got a little while before he's done anyway." She pushes me back onto the bed and tucks me in like I'm a kid. Then she crawls in next to me and hugs me around my waist. "I'll keep my comms on so they can call us soon as he's good for you to see him."

"Okay." I squeeze my eyes shut tight and try not to think about everything that's just happened. "Thank you, Rita."

"Night-night, Mistah Steel." 

***

When I finally get to see him again the next morning, he won't look at me. 

"Hey," I say. 

"Hey," he replies weakly. He's lying on his side, facing away from me. I think at first that it's anger, but eventually it hits me that maybe he's ashamed. I step into his room but don't close the door. If I close the door then we're alone, and I'm not sure if that's something he wants yet. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine." 

"That's good."

We fall silent. I tap my toe against the back of my other shoe, trying desperately to think of something I can say to this man. The one I left. The one who almost died. 

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," he says suddenly. 

"What?" 

He rolls over onto his back and covers his eyes with his arm. He says, still not looking at me: "I wasn't trying to kill myself. I want you to know that." 

"Then what were you doing?" 

A sigh escapes his perfect lips. "Juno, I just wanted to sleep. But I still couldn't even after the pill, and I suppose I went overboard. I took another, and then it still wasn't working so I panicked, and I just kept _taking_ them. I couldn't stop." He turns his face towards me, tears glimmering in his eyes. "You have to believe me. It was an accident."

"I believe you," I tell him. He rolls over again. I feel so far away from him. 

"I'm so angry," he murmurs. "I had just started coming out of this, and I thought that maybe soon I could leave withdrawal and actually be of some use to this crew. I thought I could get better." The slopes of his shoulders are trembling. "I'm so sorry you have to see me like this."

"No, don't apologize to me. I get it."

He turns to look at me, with heartbreak written all over his face. "Do you still love me?"

_How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?_

"Because if you do, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you have to go through that. You deserve so much better."

"First of all." I clear my throat. "First of all, don't talk like that." I go to his bed and sit down on the edge. "Secondly, you can still get better. Okay? I've been where you are now. I've been _exactly_ where you are now. And I'm gonna tell you, if you want to come back from this, you can, no matter how much it feels like you can't. But you have to _fight_ for it." I gaze into his eyes, trying to make the look as tender as I possibly can. "And you have to do it for yourself. Whatever I feel about you can't be enough to save you."

He nods slowly. "Yes, I understand that." He curls up again. "Thank you, Juno. I think... I think I'm going to rest now? Would that be -"

"That's fine, and if Vespa says it isn't for some reason, she can fight me. But I'm sure she won't." I stand up. "Get some sleep. I'll be back to check on you soon."

I want to tell him that of course i still love him. I want to pull him into my arms and never stop holding him. 

But I don't, because I'm selfish.

I don't want to say it like this. 

***

"So I think we're all in agreement that Rex can't stay on the team in this state." Buddy looks around at all of us, where we're sitting around the kitchen table. It's around nine in the evening. I found him a little over a day ago, and right now he's asleep in the medbay. I drop my eyes to the mug clenched in my hands, determined not to start crying again. 

"I don't think so," says Vespa. "He's really not healthy." 

"Yes, that seems clear." Buddy keeps looking at me. "I only wish I understood what was going on."

There's a long pause. 

"If any of you have any information -"

"For fuck's sake, Buddy, if you wanna ask me something, just ask me," I snap. Vespa and Jet look at me, confused. Buddy takes a few deep breaths. 

"I don't want to push you, darling," she says. "But this is quite serious. For the sake of understanding -"

"Yeah, you want me to tell you everything I know about Rex, whatever. Here goes. We did this long job on Mars together last year and almost died, like, fifteen different times. Then when it was over we had sex, in case you wanted to know that, and he told me he loved me. But I walked out on him while he was asleep. Apparently after that he went and got addicted to Silver Mage -"

"What's Silver Mage?" interrupts Rita. 

"It's a drug," Vespa tells her. "Go ahead, Juno."

"Sure. Why not. He got addicted to this Silver Mage stuff and to those sleeping pills. Then I guess he got off the Mage but still couldn't kick the sleeping pill habit, and he overdosed by accident the other day. Oh, and since you all heard me saying it, yeah, I know his real name. You don't have to pretend you didn't hear it. So there, boom, all of this is my fault. Happy?" 

I grab my mug and chug all the room-temperature tea left in it, just so I can have something to do with my hands, and so I don't have to look at them. When I set the mug down, they're all watching me. Buddy takes more deep breaths. 

"Thank you for sharing that with us, darling," she says. "But i truly don't think you should blame yourself for what happened to... Nureyev." She lifts an eyebrow. "That is what we're calling him now?"

"I dunno." I draw my sleeve over my nose. "Maybe you should just keep calling him Rex."

"Alright, then. What happened to Rex. I certainly think that the story must be a little more complicated than what you told us, but whether it is or not, you aren't responsible for whatever he chose to do." 

"But I dumped him. I broke his heart."

"Did you get him addicted to Silver Mage?" asks Jet. I turn to him, a little surprised at his tone. 

"Sorry?"

"Did you?"

"No, of course not-" 

"Did you tell him to overdose?"

"No, but -"

"Did you hold him down and pour the pills into his mouth?"

"Why the hell would I have done that?"

"Then it is not your fault. You cannot take responsibility for someone else's actions." 

"But -"

He lays his enormous hand over mine on the table and looks firmly into my eyes. "It is not your fault," he tells me. I feel my eyes sting again. I've cried buckets this week and I still don't think I'm near stopping. 

"Alright, then," says Buddy quietly from the head of the table. We all look back at her. "Then we're all agreed that Rex has to leave the team, no matter how much he will insist otherwise. Now I have another question. Do we believe that he can rejoin us once he's recovered, or... will we have to continue this mission without him?"

"I hate to be that person," says Vespa, "but he did kind of elbow his way in to begin with." 

"What? But he's real helpful!" Rita exclaims. "Honestly, there ain't a better thief in the galaxy than Mistah Glass! No offense, Jet."

"None taken."

"You can't just dump him from the team 'cause he's made a stupid decision! I mean, if Mistah Steel and I decided to do that in _our_ team, we wouldn't have had the Steel and Rita Detective Agency for more than six hours!" 

"We just need to consider the option," Vespa insists. Rita stands up on her chair so she's at the same height as her and plants both fists down firmly onto the table. 

"Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen. You think dumping him on some planet somewhere is gonna do him any good? We need him! And more important, he needs us! We are a T-E-A-M _team_ , Ms. Vespa, and that means nobody gets left behind when we need to stick together!"

"So we try something else," Buddy interjects. "We'll change course. He can lie low for a while somewhere, until he recovers - Rita dear, why are you still shaking your head?"

"Sorry, Ms. Buddy, but that ain't gonna work either. Don't get me wrong, I think you're both real smart ladies! I mean, me an' Mistah Steel are the smartest lady duo, but you two are for sure a close second - except I don't think you're right about this one, okay? I don't think it's gonna do him any good to go 'lie low for a while'. How's he gonna take care of himself? Or if he does this again and overdoses, and he's all alone, who's gonna find him?" 

"So what are you suggesting?" asks Vespa. "You say he can't stay, but he also can't leave alone?"

"Right. I'm sayin' he should go away for a little bit, but not alone." She grins. "I'm gonna go with him."

...and I'm crying again, because right now I know there will never be anyone in the galaxy as good as Rita, and that somehow in all my screw-ups and my failures, I've managed to have her for a best friend.

"Yeah." She gives me a side-look and smiles. "And Mistah Steel too. We'll take him, go find somewhere quiet so he can work on getting better. It'll be like a break. An' before you can start about how it's takin' time out of the crew mission, don't worry, cause you won't have to pay me. I can find us a place on some planet somewhere - hey, I've always wanted to visit Earth! I have all those creds that I transferred to my account after that last robbery and no idea what I'm gonna spend 'em on, so why not this?"

"Hmm." Buddy drums her fingers on the table contemplatively. Then she leans her head close to Vespa's and they whisper together. I'm blinking back tears, my shoulders shaking. Rita reaches over and rubs my back gently with one hand. I wish I could find the words to tell her how much she means to me, how grateful I am to her. And I know that even if Nureyev weren't the person I'm in love with, she would be doing this for him anyway, because that's just how she is. Somehow that makes me even more grateful. 

"It's gonna be okay, Mistah Steel," she murmurs to me. "We're gonna take care of him."

"I love you," I tell her. 

"I love you too, boss. Now stop cryin', you've done enough of that for now." 

Across the table, Buddy and Vespa break apart and turn back to us. "Alright," says Vespa. "We've decided that works. Rita, if you think you can plan this, and you seriously want to take on single-handedly wrangling Juno Steel and Rex Glass into taking care of themselves, we're not going to stop you." 

"Additionally, we're going to continue paying you," Buddy adds with a smile. "Think of it as vacation hours. You've certainly earned them." 

"And you want to go too, Juno?" Jet asks. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." 

"Excellent." Buddy stands up. "In that case, Rita, dear, you should figure out what you're going to say to Rex when he wakes up." 

***

So we go to Earth. 

Our teammates drop us off at the base of a small footpath. Rita seems to know her way around, despite never having been on this planet before, but insists that she looked at a lot of maps beforehand. 

"So all we gotta do is walk up this path, and our house is gonna be right there! It'll be super nice, it used to be part of a village waaaaay back in the 21st century, but then Earth was mostly destroyed in that really sad global warming thing, I just _can't_ believe they didn't see it coming - but anyway, yeah, nature reclaimed most of the forest but that house got restored! And then it got abandoned again! And now nobody really knows it exists, I mean you can kinda see it on government satellites but they never use it - so it's perfect for us!"

"Hang on," I say, "how did you get footage from Earth's government satellites?"

"Oh look, Mistah Steel, Mistah Glass, there it is, up ahead! Wow, isn't it soooooo cute?" 

"Ah." Nureyev stops walking and props back his sunglasses. "Yes, I can confirm that is a building."

It's been a little over a week since his overdose. He looks, well, not exactly healthier, but he's out of bed and no longer plugged into an IV. I'm calling that an improvement. He's wearing a plain black jumpsuit with his hair down around his shoulders, which is way more sensible than the white dress I threw on. If I'd known Earth had this much mud...

"Home sweet vacation home!" Rita declares, throwing the door open. "Okay, I've got about a million streams downloaded, but I'm gonna let you guys unpack, and then I can get all the snacks I brought into the cupboards, and then when all that's done we can watch a movie! Sound fun? Mistah Nureyev, your room's upstairs down the left hallway, and Mistah Steel, you're down here on the first floor to the right, okay?" 

"Okay. Thanks, Rita," I say. Nureyev picks up his bag and disappears up the stairs without a word. 

I go to the room Rita indicated and lay my suitcase on the four-poster bed. The room is nicer than I expected. The walls are covered with wooden boards, accented in this nice eggplant-colored paint that's soothing to look at. Through the window's weather cream curtains, I can see a tangle of wildflowers. Looks like whoever was here before us started a garden and then wasn't around to care for it. The result is a spray of purple flowers creeping over the window glass, and it's really pretty. I might put some of those in a vase or something. 

Rita decided not to set an amount of time that we'd be spending here. "We're gonna stay until Mistah Glass is healthy enough to go back," she said as we packed last night. So, I have all of my clothes, which is about a week's worth because I don't own a ton of clothes. I figure I can wash them a couple of times. Between unpacking my clothes, putting sheets onto the bed, and opening the windows to air out the room, I'm done in about ten minutes. 

I decide to go check on Nureyev.

It hits me, as I climb the creaky stairs, that this is the third time I've gone and knocked on his door to check on him. First time, I watched him fall asleep. Then the second time I found his near-lifeless body. This is the one that breaks the tie, I guess. 

When I knock on the door, he asks, "Juno?" from the other side. 

"Yeah, it's me. Are you unpacking?"

"Mm, not quite... Well, come in." 

When I open the door I have a small heart attack. He's lying in the exact center of a rug on the floor, but then I see his eyes are open. The cream color of the rug contrasts with his dark hair and jumpsuit. He looks like a model. He's so beautiful I want to cry. 

"You haven't unpacked anything," I notice. 

"No. I thought about it, but I just couldn't find the energy." He shrugs one graceful shoulder. "I'll confess, Juno. I'm worried you and Rita will be disappointed by me. I'm not sure there's much I can do in the way of recovery." 

"Well, you won't know until you try." 

"I suppose. That dress is lovely on you, by the way." 

"Shut up." I can feel myself blushing. He smiles, just a very little bit. "That rug looks comfy. Budge over." 

He shifts to one side. I walk over to the rug and then I lie down next to him. The rug is extremely comfortable, plush, and three inches deep. I sink right into it. "I never thanked you for saving my life," he murmurs. 

"Of course. Just please don't ever scare me like that again." 

Nureyev nods, his slender fingers twisting a spare thread on the carpet. He's still closed off to me, keeping me at arm's length. There's still so much he's guarding from me. Or maybe that he's trying to guard me from. "I can't talk right now, Juno," he says eventually. "It's all too much, and I...I just need time. I still haven't come back to myself. But for now... will you just lay here with me?"

And, well, that's a start. 

I roll over onto my side, facing him. "Yeah," I say, and he rolls over too. "I'll stay right here."

So we lay there, on the floor, face to face in the pool of sunlight streaming through the window- not touching each other, but close enough that if one of us moved, we would be. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/148153650@N06/48274845312/in/dateposted-public/)

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter you guys are gonna get a great fluffy hurt/comfort Vacation!story, and Robin and I have TONS of fun ideas in store for you. Til then, please leave comments here! the more comments we get, the faster we work. 
> 
> STORY TIME  
> I have several mental illnesses. Something I do very frequently, when a bad situation arises and I start to panic, is quickly shift the blame to someone else. As I've gotten older, I've realized with the help of other people how problematic this is. Even if I have anxiety, i need to take ownership for the things I do. Just like I'm always trying to shift the blame, Juno's always trying to take it onto himself. We're both coming from a place of insecurity when we do it, and we both need to work through it. So as you can see, this is a very personal piece for me. 
> 
>   
> (((did anyone catch the really quick Good Omens reference in this installment)))


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